


One Enchanted Evening

by moonwaif



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Enthusiastic Consent, FFXV Halloween Week 2020, Getting Together, M/M, No actual sex, Paranormal Investigators AU, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwaif/pseuds/moonwaif
Summary: When a paranormal investigation goes wrong, Gladio and Ignis will do anything to save Noctis—even if it means doing each other.A.k.a., when you've been crushing on your best friend and a magic spell gives you the perfect opportunity to share your feelings.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: FFXV Halloween Week 2020





	One Enchanted Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Written for FFXV Halloween Week 2020 ([Tumblr](https://ffxvhalloweenweeksfw.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ffxvhalloweenwk?lang=bn)). 
> 
> Day 7 (10/31): Halloween!  
> Monster of the day: Witches  
> Theme: Spells/Potions

As an official member of the C.D.D.S. (a.k.a. Chocobro Daemon Destroyers Squad, as dubbed by Prompto), Gladio has a pretty flexible relationship with the word “normal.” However, even he has to admit that nothing about the current investigation is anywhere near the realm of normal.

First there’d been that weird purple envelope with the heavy wax seal. Inside was a letter from one Ardyn Izunia, written in flowing script and kindly soliciting their services at Zegnautus Keep—an old castle, located somewhere in the distant mountains of Niflheim. This was also weird. Sure, the C.D.D.S. may have been well-known exorcists in Lucis, but they weren’t exactly world-renowned. On top of that, Izunia claimed to be an acquaintance of Lord Regis, yet Noct didn’t know him. Gladio didn’t know him. Neither did Ignis, or any of Lord Regis’s old acquaintances. And when Prompto did a websearch, it came up empty.

That probably should have been a sign, Gladio thinks, striding through the castle halls. He glances at the giant portrait of Izunia smirking down at him, framed by cobwebs and moldering tapestries. Its eyes seem to follow Gladio as he passes, its smile shriveling in the shadows. The real Izunia had been just as disconcerting when they’d met him. But Noct had been in a slump since his father’s death. Noct had been depressed. That meant Ignis and Prompto were depressed too, and this seemed like a good chance to get away from it all. Besides, Noct was curious. He wanted to know more about this mysterious acquaintance of his father. So they stuck around, and when they were unexpectedly joined by the Nox Fleuret siblings, who Izunia had also commissioned—well, they figured the more the merrier and tried to be on guard.

What catchy name will Prompto give this particular case, Gladio wonders? Something about hubris, maybe. Something about old gods. Before anything specific can crystallize, Gladio is already at the set of massive, iron-laid doors. They groan as he yanks them open and steps into the castle library.

Ignis is still exactly where Gladio left him—hunched over a desk, hidden behind a stack of books. “How are they?” he asks, not even bothering to look up.

“Stable,” Gladio answers, “at least for now. The curse on Ravus is spreading. Luna still isn’t responding. Cindy’s looking after them.”

“And still no sign from Noctis?”

“The planchette hasn’t moved in the last half hour.”

“Dammit!” Ignis slams the book closed and tosses it aside. He makes a steeple with his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We should never have come here.”

Gladio draws up behind Ignis’s chair. In the dim light, he can see loose papers full of obscure runes, time-weathered pages penned in tightly-scrawled ink. If this were a normal gig, they’d have wrapped everything up by now. They’d have subdued the spirit, and if that wasn’t possible, exorcised it. The client would be shoving fistfuls of money at them and weeping tears of joy. Ignis would have food on the grill. Gladio would be setting up camp for the night. Prompto would be complaining about EMF detectors and other technical jargon while uploading the latest footage to their blog. And Noct would have been loafing around, watching all of them with a contented smile, asking when dinner would be ready.

Gladio gives Ignis’s shoulder a squeeze. “What’s done is done—no use beating ourselves up over it. We’ve gotta keep our heads clear if we're gonna help Noct.”

Ignis sighs heavily. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Gladio. I lost myself for a moment.”

“Don’t sweat it. Now are you sure you haven't found anything?”

Ignis drops his hands to leaf through a book. “Nothing about those marks on Ravus’s arm, or what could be strong enough to entrap the most powerful medium in Tenebrae.”

“What about the portal?”

“No definitive answers, but nothing that contradicts our initial theories, either. Noct and Prompto are most likely caught between the two realms.”

“Which means Luna’s still our best shot at reaching them. Damn.”

“About that . . .” Ignis shifts in his seat, turning to face Gladio fully. “There is one thing—an old tome, written in Solheim runes.”

Gladio perks up. “You think there’s something in there that could help us get to Noct?”

“Possibly. There is . . . a spell.” Ignis removes a book from the stack. It’s dark and fat. Any markings on the cover have been completely worn away. “A ritual, to be precise. It enables the caster to send spiritual energy to a soul trapped between Eos and the spirit realm.”

“All right! I knew we could count on you, Iggy.”

Gladio claps him on the shoulder. Ignis slumps under the weight. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

There’s something about Ignis’s expression that Gladio can’t put his finger on, but he doesn’t have time to parse it. "Which components are we missing? Anything we can substitute?"

"We have all the necessary items. It’s just, this spell—well, it requires two people."

Gladio nods. "Cool, so we'll tag team it out."

Ignis winces. "I really wouldn't be so quick to say that if I were you."

"Why? Does it require a sacrifice?"

"Of sorts.”

Gladio raises a brow. Ignis closes his eyes. When he opens them, it’s with steely resolution.

“It's a book of sex magic, Gladio."

* * *

It takes less than five minutes to move all the furniture, less than ten to finish drawing the array around the bed. After all, Ignis isn’t the high witch of the Lucis Caelum clan for nothing. He lights the candles with a snap of his fingers while Gladio sets out the bowls of sylleblossom petals and animal fat—six in total, one for each of the Astrals. Then both of them step into the array.

Gladio removes his jacket. He suppresses a shiver as Ignis draws his thumb along his chest and abdomen, leaving behind a maroon sigil. He stays very still as Ignis unbuttons his own shirt, and when it’s his turn to copy the sigil, he tries very hard not to stare at Ignis’s pecs, or the freckles on his stomach.

Ignis clears his throat. His entire face is red, from his neck to the roots of his hair. “Next we present the offerings. If you don’t mind, I can go first.”

“Be my guest.”

Ignis reaches into the pocket of his trousers. “This pendant was given to me by Lord Regis when I was still a child, in honor of my appointment as the high witch’s apprentice. I have since kept it with me out of respect for the Lucis Caelum line as well as for good fortune. I offer it today as a token of gratitude and good will to the Astrals and to the elements, that they may grant Lord Noctis their aid.”

He sets the pendant in one of the bowls of sylleblossoms (Gladio definitely does not admire the muscles in his shoulders and back when he bends over).

Gladio reaches into their satchel of supplies to remove his own offering. “I brought cup noodles.”

Ignis stares at him.

“Um.” Gladio shifts uneasily. “These delicious noodles are for the Astrals, so that—”

“Just put it down,” Ignis snaps. “In one of the bowls.” He waits until Gladio is finished. When he speaks again, his voice is somewhat softer. “Gladio, before we go any further, are you sure about this?”

Gladio squares his shoulders. "You said it should be the two people closest to the target of the spell. Out of all those conscious and present, that's you and me."

"I know, but you shouldn’t feel obligated. There may be other ways. I could keep looking. I could—”

"Ignis. I want to do this."

Ignis exhales deeply, with a sort of resignation. "Very well."

"What about you?” Gladio asks. “Are you good? If not, me and Cindy are pretty tight. She hasn't known Noct for that long, but maybe if I talk to her, she and I could—"

"No.”

The response is forceful—loud, even. Ignis pauses to adjust his glasses.

“The principal caster should be an experienced magic user,” he continues calmly, “which is me. And if it has to be anyone, I'd rather it be the two of us."

Gladio decides not to read too much into that last statement, but he does feel a little smug.

"So," he asks, "what next?"

"Eager, are we?" Ignis remarks dryly. "Just stand there, for now. And follow my lead."

He turns to retrieve two goblets from the bedside table and hands one to Gladio. The liquid is fragrant with cloves and other herbs. Next, Ignis links their arms together, so that they're each holding the goblet before the other's lips.

"Repeat after me," Ignis says. " _Ic bescence þe mīn ferþ_. . ."

Gladio repeats, understanding only every other word. But he trusts Ignis, so when the goblet tilts toward his lips, he drinks until it's drained.

"Now then." Ignis's entire torso is flushed now, and Gladio is sure it has little to do with the wine. "I suppose this is the part where we go to bed."

"If that's what the spell says," Gladio concedes.

The mattress creaks as they both take a seat on the edge. Ignis perches very stiffly, arms and legs drawn close to his body.

"So." Gladio leans back on one hand, stretches his legs—pretends to be much more relaxed than he really feels. "How specific are the details of this spell?"

"Any act of intimacy will suffice," Ignis says quietly. "So long as the fertile essences are spilled by both parties."

Well then, Gladio thinks. It shouldn't hurt to look, right? He is, after all, an expert in looking at Ignis—though mostly through stolen glances, or carefully neutral gazes. Now he lets his eyes roam freely. Ignis is slender without his shirt—his shoulders broad and sinewy, his waist narrow. Myriad freckles and moles pattern his skin. Gladio wants to reach out and run his hands over every single one. Instead, his eyes snap up to Ignis's face. Ignis stares back, expression inscrutable. He leans forward, and Gladio inches toward him, arm raising instinctively as he prepares to—

"I've never done this before," Ignis blurts.

Gladio falls back. He blinks, then scratches his head with a chuckle. "Yeah, this is my first occult sex ritual, too."

"No, I mean, I've never done this with anyone, ever—being intimate."

_Oh._

"Is that a problem?" Ignis presses.

"Of course not," Gladio says. "I'm just . . ."

Ignis's lips curve in a rueful smile. "Surprised? The role of the supreme high witch doesn't allow much time for romantic escapades. Unfortunately, I'm not very experienced. I hope it won't be too unenjoyable for you."

He says this with his typical flat, sarcastic affect, but there's something tender underneath. Something dark and edgy.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy it," Gladio assures him. "You're perfect, Iggy. Everything you do is perfect. But are you really okay with this? Kind of an intense first time."

"I'm okay with it. Actually, I . . ."

He pauses, gaze darting to the floor. Gladio waits with entirely feigned patience. By the time Ignis looks back up, his entire body feels like it's on fire.

"I've always wanted it to be you," Ignis says.

A raspy, trembling breath escapes Gladio's lips. With it goes the last few tattered shreds of his composure. " _Iggy._ Fuck, I—I'm gonna take such good care of you. I want to make you feel good, Iggy."

Ignis takes Gladio's hands and guides them to his waist. "I know," he says. "I trust you."

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot comes from a larger AU that I've never gotten around to writing, eheh.
> 
> The spell is in Old English (which I studied for like, one semester a long time ago, so I'm pretty rusty). Solheim is a [Norwegian word](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solheim), frequently a last name, sometimes a place name. It comes from the [Old Norse word Solheimr](https://www.ancestry.com/name-origin?surname=solheim#:~:text=Norwegian%3A%20habitational%20name%20from%20any,home'%2C%20'farmstead'.). I've never studied Old Norse although I know it is very closely related to Old English. Since I'm an English speaker and have some familiarity with Old English, I felt more comfortable using Old English in this instance. I didn't really want to appropriate a language I hadn't studied, from a cultural/linguistic heritage that wasn't my own, ya feel?
> 
> I also didn't want to use Latin because, well. I feel like Latin is obviously the language of Lucis. Meanwhile, I feel like Niflheim, being from Old Norse Niflheimr and part of Norse mythology, is more linguistically Germanic. (Old English and Old Norse are both Indo-European Germanic languages. Old English is West Germanic, Old Norse is North Germanic.)
> 
> This [Old English Pronunciation Guide](https://oldenglish.info/advpronunciationguide.html) is a pretty good place to start. [History of the Lord's Prayer in English](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_Lord%27s_Prayer_in_English) is also a really quick way to see just how much English has changed over time. Hmm, it's almost like language change can be a normal and natural process, or something. Imagine that.


End file.
